Stornoway - You Don't Know Anything

You Don't Know Anything, a mini LP comprised of songs that "didn’t quite fit in with the mood" of latest album Tales from Terra Firma, is miles away from simplicity. For every slice of straightforward candour on their first offering, here poses a convoluted riposte.

One of the best things about Stornoway's debut album, Beachcombers Windowsill, was its delightful simplicity. The clarity of singer Brian Briggs' vocals against a single pulsing bass note on 'Zorbing', the two chord ornithological homage of 'Watching Birds', 'Fuel Up's gently lilting melody. It's not that they were undeveloped; indeed, the touch of mandolin here, the well-placed violin there, only accentuated their folky charm. And it won them a pretty loyal following - there aren't many bands who can claim that a BBC presenter got suspended for barricading himself in the studio and playing an uninterrupted hour of their songs.

You Don't Know Anything, a mini LP comprised of songs that "didn't quite fit in with the mood" of latest album Tales from Terra Firma, is miles away from simplicity. For every slice of straightforward candour on their first offering, here poses a convoluted riposte. From the erroneous synth, finicky guitar and call and response vocals of opening track 'When You Touch Down From Outer Space' to the oddly triumphant fanfare-esque trumpets on 'The Sixth Wave', this is a release that has been elaborately crafted from start to finish.

Eponymous track 'You Don't Know Anything' evokes some of that initial earnest appeal, with warm harmonies, forthright guitar and big choruses, though lyrically it's a bit clunky, which is rather unexpected from a band who are known for their coherence. Overall lyrical themes again hark back to earlier material: starting university, first loves, nature, and birds (obviously), though the arrival of Briggs' first born is addressed on opener 'You Touch Down From Outer Space', where he references all the places in Oxford he'll introduce them to. Focus on time and its passing is a recurring topic, almost giving the release a sense of impatience, which, alongside its lack of apparent cohesion is slightly disorientating.

There are instances where it's ultimately a bit overwritten. It's as though they finished a song, then later came back and wrote most of a further song on top of it, with bits of ersatz synth, a gaudy horn section, or an unnecessary extra instrumental before the last chorus thrown in for good measure. It's telling that the notes accompanying the album state that these tracks are 'more collaborative than our previous releases - with most of the songs being co-writes', as if each song writer hasn't scaled down their contribution to account for everyone else. Though while this doesn't work on certain tracks, it's what makes others. Last track 'Clockwatching' is all about the inclusion of little details, full of stops and starts, it contorts around an eerie organ part, the urgent bass riff and frantic vocals overlaid with sinister keys and vigorous drums.

It's hardly unexpected that an artist might react against their previous material by focussing in another direction, but it feels as if Stornoway have gone rather further than necessary with this one. There's a case to be made for stick to what you're good at, and, incongruities aside, here it might just be particularly apt.